Lunch was a cheese burger, with fries, and a can of cola. Chocolate cake for dessert. The meal was pure bliss from start to finish. Food never used to taste so good. It was like I had extra taste-buds. Blain ate food too, though Tiffany and Mikayla opted out of eating.

"So are you going to grow your hair out?" said Mikayla to Tiffany.

"Huh? Oh, yeah," said Tiffany, "I thought shaving my hair down might be a good look but–"

"--it ain't," said Blain, before stuffing a handful of fries into his mouth, "Makes you look like a dude."

"Hey!" said Mikayla, crossly. She slapped Blain's shoulder, "Watch your mouth."

"What?" said Blain, "Ain't that what you're going for? Looking like a bloke?"

Tiffany didn't know what to say. Her face squirmed from trying to look like she was amused by what Blain was saying, to showing how uncomfortable and hurt she was.

I felt bad for her, and would have said something if Mikayla hadn't spoken up on Tiffany's behalf first. The thing was, Tiffanny did look like a dude, so much so I hadn't been sure myself back when I first sat with her on the coach leaving the evacuation depot. It wasn't just that she had a shaved head, she was truly androgynous looking; if she hadn't told me she was a girl I would have thought she was a slightly feminine-looking guy. Her body in the overalls didn't help matters either, not only was she much taller than normal for a girl, there was hardly a feminine figure to her at all.

Blain's blase attitude gave way to an eye-roll.

"I didn't mean to hurt your feelings," he said, "My bad."

"It's okay," said Tiffany, in a small voice.

She started chewing her nails. They were red raw again. I realised it must have been a while since she had last had a smoke. Maybe there was a way to get some in here? Surely it wouldn't be completely off-limits to have a cigarette from time-to-time?

"Come here, girl," said Mikayla, giving Tiffany a much needed hug.

Blain shot me a look that said he thought the girl's were overreacting. I just looked at my fries and contented myself finishing them up. Hey, I thought, If I was Tiffany my feelings would be hurt too.

I had always been a slow eater so it took me a little while to finish stuffing my face. Finished, I got up and took my tray over to the rack of other dirty trays. When I turned back I found Mikayla standing within arm's reach of me. I noticed again that she was quite pretty and as a result I felt a familiar pang of nervousness talking to her, especially one-on-one.

"Hey," she said, "I'm going to go with Tiff to see if we can get her some cigarettes; poor girl's gonna chew her fingers off."

"Oh, okay," I said, "That's nice of you to do that."

"I know," said Mikayla, jokingly, "I'm so nice. Have fun with Blain."

I gave her an awkward thumbs up. She turned and left and made her way over to Tiffany who was standing looking away from Blain chewing the skin around her nails like a beaver through wood. If Blain cared that he upset her feelings he wasn't showing it. He walked over to me.

"Ready?" he said.

"Right now?" I said, patting my stomach, "We just ate."

"We'll walk it off," he said, "Come on."

He put a heavy arm round my shoulder and guided me out of the cafeteria. It annoyed me being manhandled a bit but at the same time having a superhuman boxing prodigy as a buddy wasn't the worst thing in the world. Of course we weren't buddies yet, but I was hopeful we could get there eventually. I decided to chalk up him hurting Tiffany's feelings to oblivious male bravado rather than him actually being malicious; if he kept it up then I would have to do something about it.

I didn't feel like I had digested my meal much by the time we made it to the exercise area. It was filled with teenagers jogging and doing all kinds of activities; rope climbing, gymnastics, rock wall climbing, and more. More than half of the teenagers on the third floor were exercising in one way or another. It made me wonder if there were other floors filled with teenagers or if this was the only one. There were six floors shown on the elevator buttons; and I had seen the second floor where Robert Hoffman and many of the Pied Piper Research staff were busy working.

I looked around the exercise area to see if anyone else was showing signs of being extraordinary. The boys and girls jogging, either alone or in groups, kept a steady pace, but nothing I would consider above and beyond the norm. Then again, when I jogged in my coiled state it probably didn't look all that impressive from an outside point of view. It was only the length of time I was able to keep it up that was the impressive part.

"Let's start with a few laps round to warm up," said Blain.

I followed his lead as he set off. His pace was much quicker than I was comfortable with. By the time we were halfway round I started to flag; I needed to coil up if I wanted to match his normal pace. I didn't want to ask him to stop or slow down so soon after starting, however, so I did my best to keep up. After the second lap lagging behind Blain I made mental notes of how my body handled exercise normally versus whilst I was in the coiled state; I could maintain the just-above-jogging pace, despite how torturous it was, in my un-coiled state for many hours. The suffering of it was the price to pay for not going into the coiled state. My body could keep going, without a stopper like would be normal, but it would be demanding for me to stop every single moment. But, coiling was different. It was like applying a cheat code; circumventing what would be normal for me.

"Okay, stop, stop, stop," I said, bringing myself to a stop and hunching over to catch my breath.

"You're out of shape big time," said Blain.

"I know," I huffed. I wanted to spit on the floor but I resisted the impulse.

I moved off to the side to let the other teenagers jogging pass by without me getting in the way.

"I'm going to coil up," I said.

"Go for it," said Blain.

I was incredibly excited about this. My heart was already beating faster just at the prospect of going back into the coiled state. The thought of going back to it stuck in the back of my mind ever since I came out of it; even when stuffing my face with food in the cafeteria a part of me daydreamed about getting to go back into the coiled state again. It felt that good.

Stolen story; please report.

I repeated every step of what I had done before. Power stance, closed fists to my sides, my mind going back to the kind of things I had seen heroes in my favourite animes do to build up their inner power. I thought back to my birthday wishes again, I wish to become stronger, I wish to become stronger, I wish to become stronger.

I let my mind go blank. This time I waited for the coiled up state to hit all at once. It had taken a few moments before to kick-in.

Then I felt it, the tightening, the coiling, it gripped all over my body.

"Ah!" I gasped; it didn't hurt, but it wasn't exactly comfortable to feel my body tighten up like it did either.

I started jogging on the spot; I'd done it, I was back in the coiled state.

"That's it?" said Blain, raising an eyebrow, "You don't look any different."

"I feel it," I said, "Want to go round again?"

Blain nodded slowly.

I set off this time and Blain had to match my pace. He kept steady with me for another lap though I could tell he was surprised by how well I was doing now compared to before. His reaction cycled from amused to annoyed. After another lap he had begun to sweat, to breathe heavily; I felt like I could keep going forever.

"Want me to show you how-" I began to say as we continued onto the next lap.

"-no," said Blain, harshly, "We're gonna keep going."

I was taken aback by how serious he sounded all of a sudden. I figured it was something to do with his pride as an athlete. To compete at the top level one probably needed to have that drive to compete. It clicked for me then; how long had it been since he had genuinely felt the excitement of competition? Being superhuman, if that's really what we were, on top of his already athletic self, was likely isolating when it came to finding people that could keep up with him. He had put that other boxer in the hospital after all.

I decided to pick up the pace for Blain's benefit. I wanted to give him the challenge he might have been looking for. My jogging pace reached a point where I was practically running; not quite flat out, but close. It felt incredible to be able to keep it up for more than just a few seconds; but steadily, as if I might never need to stop.

Blain, with all the thunderous weight of an angry rhino, matched my running speed. We ran in unison, drawing looks from teenagers passing us.

Humph! Humph! Humph!

Blain's hardened breathing stayed beside me as we kept going. We finished another lap. Sweat had broken out across Blain's body, creating a shiny sheen that brought out the definition of his muscles caged in his overalls.

After the next lap he started to breathe much harder. I could tell however that he wasn't going to quit any time soon. He could keep going at this running pace the same way I could keep going on the treadmill in Lintern's Gym. The difference was he would likely be sunburnt if he kept up what he was currently doing. I wanted to ask if he was ready to coil up, but I knew he would tell me in good time and wasn't one to be pushed into doing things; at least that's what I figured.

By the seventh lap Blain was like a walking water fountain letting droplets of sweat shower off him with every stride. I felt bad for him because, in a way, I was cheating. I hadn't earned the right to be faster than him, to outrun him; yet that was what I was doing. It wasn't fair but it was the reality between us as we currently were. Little five foot seven inches me versus his towering six foot-something inches.

"Alright," he said, finally coming to a stop. He huffed and stood with his hands at his hips. It took him about ten seconds of hampered breathing to be able to speak clearly. I continued jogging on the spot, but it felt almost condescending to do so given he was standing still.

"Want me to teach you–" I started to say, but then Blain turned and let out a shout that made me almost piss myself.

I stopped jogging, my whole body trembling, urging me to start moving again. I fought down the urge as best I could and instead fixed my attention on Blain. His outburst had drawn looks from the other teenagers in the exercise area; bringing everyone to a stop.

"What?" said Blain, noticing this too, "Got something to say?!"

The other teenagers went back to what they were doing if only not to incur Blain's wrath. I decided to stop being in a coiled state. I started to reenter the power stance, put my fists to my side, and began to imagine powering down.

"What are you doing?" said Blain, accusingly.

"I thought we were done," I said; my body started to tremble fiercely with the need to start jogging again. It almost hurt not to.

"Nah, we ain't done," said Blain, "We've only just started."

"What's wrong?" I said.

I started jogging on the spot. It was bad timing to do so, but like a spring my body just couldn't stop itself from doing it anymore.

"This is a joke," he said, "It's sick, bruv!"

He started yelling again, his attention fixed on me. It was almost comical how I kept jogging despite myself in front of him.

"Yeah," I said, "It's ridiculous."

Blain smirked, but there wasn't any real joy in it.

"I'm an athlete," he said, "My father should have been the heavyweight champion of the world. He couldn't make that happen so now it's up to me. But now, what's the point? It's all a joke, one sick joke."

I planted my feet, brought my fists to the side, and forced myself to power down. My body uncoiled moments later and I buckled down to one knee, just barely stopping myself from passing out. For a few moments all sound in the exercise area; of the many teenagers exercising and talking, cut out; and the world sank to gray as if it were becoming a silent movie; and then the moment passed and I felt normal again. On shaky legs I stood up and faced Blain, looking up at him.

"You're being a crybaby," I said.

"What?" said Blain, looking at me as if asking the question, 'Do you want me to beat you up?'

I didn't care. I had a point I needed to make and he was going to hear it.

"At least you got to be an athlete," I said, "Some of us don't get that. You think I never tried to do what you do?"

"What?" said Blain, screw-eyeing me.

"I'm not saying you didn't earn what you accomplished," I said, "But most people won't ever have what it takes to be an athlete that can actually, you know, go the distance. To win prizes, or whatever."

"It ain't about prizes," said Blain.

"Then what is it about?" I said.

"An athlete pushes himself," said Blain, pointing into his palm, "It's about discipline, about conquering yourself. It's about becoming the best."

Blain's plimsoll squeaked like a stepped-on mouse as he kicked the floor. He walked over to the nearby wall and buried his face in his arm. After a few moments he turned round and leaned against the wall.

"I live for competition," he said, "I'm a Penniman, it's what we do. We're worldshakers. You take the competition away from me; there's nothing left. I ain't interested."

What does it matter? I thought, Who cares if you're the best? Is punishing your mind and body everyday for most of your youth worth it just so you can claim some prize in front of a crowd?

The thing was, I didn't come from a family that took pride in its name. O'Bannon was just a surname and nothing more than that. My Dad hadn't achieved anything great in his life, and I was my father's son; and, until the last few days, I had expected my life to work out more or less the same. Hearing Blain whine about not being able to be the best just didn't hold weight with me. It was like a handsome guy complaining he couldn't get a date. Boo-hoo. This didn't mean I couldn't sympathize with Blain's struggle; but to me it seemed overly simple, the answer then was simple too.

"Then find new competition," I said, "Hundreds, maybe even thousands of teenagers are gaining superhuman abilities. If that's true, then there's going to be plenty of people that are stronger, faster, and more able than you."

Blain considered this. It was so obvious; maybe he had considered it before. Who knows. He wiped his mouth and looked at the floor in thought.

"Maybe," he said, nodding, "Maybe you're right."

Of course I was right. That was where this was all heading, wasn't it? Teenagers getting super powers. Something straight out of a comic book becoming real.

"So," I said, "You better learn how to use your power too, because if you don't you'll get left behind."

"Alright," said Blain, nodding, and smirking for real this time. "Show me how you do it."